#nancy is NOT the girl who wrangles them all up after they get into some chaos

[lumaxramblings]

one of the main reasons i will always despise the fruity four dynamic is because yall mischaracterize nancy so badly it makes me want to shoot sumn

#the royal yall btw #nancy is NOT the girl who wrangles them all up after they get into some chaos #she's the one that CAUSES the chaos #she'd start a bar fight if she thought she could win #anti fruity four

[wit4writ]

PJO: Episode 1 Detailed Review

The first two episodes of Percy Jackson and the Olympians has dropped on Disney+ and I have OPINIONS. I’ve been scrambling to shove my thoughts back in my brain like they’re snakes escaping from a basket. *pushing lid down* I’ll let you guys out once I can wrangle you into a coherent, easily comprehensible form, okay?

Here are a few disclaimers: I am not an expert in any way, shape, or form. This is meant only a critique with changes I would have personally added, and I will be highlighting things I liked as well as disliked. If you disagree with me, that’s fine, just be respectful. There will be tons of spoilers. Also, I have no issues with actors based on their looks/ethnicity.

Before I delve into it, I will say that overall, the episodes aren’t bad. They do a decent job of introducing us to the world and our protagonists. The setting, costume design, special effects, and lighting were well done, and the actors did a good job of portraying their characters.

However, the entire thing feels rushed. Almost as if someone at Disney freaked out and tried to push something before it was ready to please fans and investors. (I’m not saying this happened, I just wouldn’t be surprised if it did.) Transitions between scenes were choppy and/or long. Instead of letting us get to know the world and characters organically, such as through dialogue and interactions, it forced characters into being exposition robots instead (more so in the second episode). Examples will be highlighted as I get into the detailed review.

So, let’s begin with episode one!

The beginning was great. I loved the voiceover as we introduce Percy and his past. I enjoyed the changes that were made to translate the book to the screen in this case, as it was condensed into a watchable form, but it still was able to tell us important details: Percy has been seeing weird things since he was little, he’s an outcast at his school, and he has a best friend, Grover, who’s being bullied.

Next was the museum, which was also good. Mr. Brunner’s speech was great. Percy looking at the page and seeing all the letters rearrange themselves was a literal “show, don’t tell” that worked well. The flashback with Sally explaining Percy’s name and the story of Perseus was amazing. I loved we got more of Sally and Percy’s relationship here, as well as the emphasis that not all heroes look like heroes and not all monsters look like monsters.

The sudden shift back to reality was a great transition, especially since it highlights how his ADHD can make him daydream. We see the same girl who bullied Grover make a nasty comment, and I think a response from Percy would have been great here (“Shut up, Nancy!” etc.) so we naturally get to know her name and justify Mrs. Dodds’ warning to Percy. Mr. Brunner’s intervention was a good move and I liked how he gave Percy the pen, though if he tried to make Nancy apologize to Percy it would’ve been more impactful. If Nancy blew him off and Mrs. Dodds defended her, we’d see this was an ongoing problem and we’d get some characterization. If Nancy did apologize, she’d have a reason to resent Percy beyond bullying him for the sake of it, and we could connect it to her actions of going after Grover.

Grover’s conversation with Percy was good, but it should’ve been longer. We get told they’re friends and saw them hanging out in the introductory montage, but beyond that, we don’t get much of them actually being friends before everything blows up.

When Nancy goes after Grover, it’d make sense for her to antagonize Percy more, to highlight her nastiness and their ongoing problems. We’ve only seen two incidents of bullying, three if we count her throwing food at Grover, and it felt very cold and unemotional, like someone pulled real-life bullying incidents and put them in a training video. Her just walking away after doesn’t make sense. She knows she’s made Percy angry, and she has a chance to provoke him further and indulge in the rush of power that bullies get when they torment their victims. A back and forth between Percy and Nancy would have gone a long way to showcasing their history and Grover and Percy’s dynamic. For example, after Nancy throws the food at Grover:

// Nancy: “Oops.”

Percy stands up.

Percy: “What’s your problem?”

Grover grabs him and tries to pull him back. Classmates start to notice.

Grover: “Percy, don’t.”

Nancy: “I’m not the one with problems here.”

Percy: “Look, can you just back off?”

Nancy: “Aw, does wittle baby Percy wanna whine to Brunner again?”

By now, their classmates are surrounding them and laugh at her comment. Percy looks around, but the teachers are nowhere close. //

In my ideal scene, there’s a few more barbs from Nancy as we focus on Percy’s reaction to the bullying and humiliation, and as his temper roars, and there’s screams, water sprays, and Nancy’s in the fountain.

The impact of him just walking up and “pushing” her into the fountain was lackluster. Part of what’s great about this in the books is that not even Percy himself is sure what he did, so when his powers emerge at Camp Half-Blood it hits even harder. Also, the way she just flew into the fountain made it look like he had telekinesis, not hydrokinetic powers.

The pen vibrating when Mrs. Dodds started coming after Percy…I’m neutral on that. But the menace of her just getting closer was amazing, and the fact no one noticed was cool. When Percy started backing away, I was sure he was going to run, and then the confrontation would take place somewhere more secluded. I was disappointed when that didn’t happen, because the whole thing felt too short. This is his first monster encounter, and it was over in a matter of seconds. There was no sense of stakes (Stakes are used to engage your audience and make them care about the characters/their problems), it was more like—that happened, okay, everyone move on. This moment would have benefited from us staying in it longer.

Percy fainting/blacking out after the fight was a choice I also don’t agree with. The effect of him not only surviving his first fight but being able to walk away would’ve given us a sense of a couple different things: there’s more to the world and him than meets the eye.

The old lady with Nancy during this part needs clarification. Readers of the book know that she’s the “new” teacher, but she could also pass for a concerned citizen. This could have been clarified by Mr. Brunner saying something like, “Mrs. Kerr, take Nancy to the gift shop and get her a new shirt.” Then, when Percy freaks out, they drop the bomb that Mrs. Kerr is their teacher and Mrs. Dodds doesn’t exist.

What followed was a four second darkness transition (felt too long and took me out of the viewing) and the scene in the principal’s office. Honestly, that entire scene could’ve been shortened or maybe even skipped. It didn’t make sense, which I could go deeper into, but for now, I’ll just say that we don’t need the added scene of Percy getting beaten down by this. We’ve already seen him bullied and almost killed. Ideally, I would have the scene go something like this:

// TRANSITION

Percy is zoned out, still thinking about the fight, and the principal calls him.

Principal: “Mr. Jackson? Mr. Jackson, are you listening?”

Percy: “Yeah, sorry.”

Principal: “As I was saying, you have been on thin ice since the term began.”

Percy: “So it’s my fault that Nancy’s bullying me and Grover?”

Principal: “You should’ve informed a faculty member.”

Percy: “I tried, but none of you listened!”

Principal: “Nevertheless, pushing Ms. Bobofit into a public fountain was a step too far.”

Percy: “So how many detentions do I have this time? Or is it a suspension?”//

Then we cut to Percy packing his bag and heading out.

Grover betraying him was unnecessary and cruel. We did not need the extra angst and that kind of behaviour ruins the trust in a friendship, no matter the reason. I’d have them sharing a short, yet heartfelt goodbye before Percy goes out to wait for his ride and talks with Mr. Brunner.

The interaction between Eddie the super and Percy was great in adding some context to the apartment dynamics. Gabe was so slimy, and it was nice to see Percy’s sass come out more here. I appreciate the callbacks to the book in that he’s playing online poker and later on, during his conversation with Sally, Sally promises him food to get him off her back.

I was confused why Sally Jackson was standing out on her balcony in the rain. But I liked the interactions of Sally, Gabe, and Percy. Sally was sweet and understanding, and her attitude with Gabe made me laugh. These moments were what I was craving, where interaction and dialogue revealed more about the characters.

Another four second darkness transition (sigh) to Percy’s first weird dream. I liked this sequence, but it felt out of place. Starting with Percy and Sally’s interaction in the car would’ve been better, and showing them running into the house, then Sally dismissing him to get dried off. It was an abrupt transition to suddenly jump to him in the bathroom.

Percy talking to his mom was sweet, but the dialogue could’ve been tighter. That’s how I felt about a lot of dialogue bits. For example, when Sally talks about how his dad was a man unlike she’d ever met before, she said it three times. If it was delivered in a more rambling way it might have worked, but I think saying it twice would’ve gotten the point across.

Sally telling Percy about his dad and the gods was an interesting choice. I liked how they did it, but it felt like there were, again, sentences that could’ve been easily cut to make it more succinct and improve the flow, because she came close to becoming an exposition robot, which is a term I use to describe a character who has become a narrative vehicle to spout huge chunks of exposition at the audience and in doing so sacrifice their personality and characterization.

Percy asking if Sally fell in love with Jesus was a great comment.

Sally and Grover’s interactions were incredible, I loved it. Also, the reveal of Grover’s legs was so well done, I laughed out loud. This, like the previous scene in the Jacksons’ apartment, allowed the interactions and dialogue to reveal more about the characters, allowing for revelation without dumping information.

Grover almost became an exposition robot in the car. If we cut the whole betrayal arc, we could’ve devoted more time to the actual explanation and made it flow better. Also, if we’d established that Percy’s been protecting/trying to protect Grover from bullying, like in my rewritten scene at the fountain outside the museum, that line where Grover said he was Percy’s protector would’ve made for a greater contrast.

I liked the action sequence with the Minotaur and car running into each other, but it was cut abruptly. If it showed the car going off the road, then Grover kicking out the back window, it would’ve allowed for a smoother transition.

Sally getting Grover to swear to protect Percy and her talk with Percy also took too long, considering there was a Minotaur after them. I would’ve cut a lot of it and made everyone speak faster. This moment needed to be shorter to reflect the fact time was literally running out and Percy was in actual danger (thus raising the stakes). Something like this:

// Grover points at a pine in the distance.

Grover: “We’re almost there. Once we get past that tree, we’ll be safe.”

Sally: “Good. Percy, give me your coat.”

Percy automatically obeys and Sally takes his coat.

Percy: “Uh, why?”

Sally: “He tracks by smell. If I go one way and you go the other, it’ll be enough to confuse him.”

Percy: “What? No! We need to stick together!”

Sally: “Grover, you swear to me you’ll take care of him.”

Grover: “I will, Mrs. Jackson.”

Percy: “Mom, what’s going on?”

Sally: “I can’t go into camp. It’s not a place for…mortals.”

Percy: “Whoa, no. I’m not leaving you out here by yourself. What if the monster gets you, what if you get lost, what if—”

Sally: “Perseus!”

She hugs him.

Sally: “Remember you’re a miracle, and my son.”

She pulls back to look him in the eye.

Sally: “I love you.”

The Minotaur roars—they’re out of time. //

Sally facing off with the Minotaur was well done. Though I would’ve had Percy start running back the moment he saw the Minotaur grab her, then stop when she vanished. It would’ve communicated his desperation then devastation as he failed to save her.

I was confused why Percy’s pen started vibrating here. At first, I assumed the pen was some sort of monster detector, but seeing it vibrate at this point seemed to refute that. Now it appears that the vibration serves as a reminder to Percy that he has a weapon, which I don’t like. It takes away Percy’s agency and acts like a sword ex machina. Letting Percy keep the pen from the museum onward was an interesting choice, but I think it’d make more sense to not have it or have him search his pockets beforehand (like at the cabin), discover it, and suddenly remember it during the fight.

The fight between Percy and the Minotaur was all right, but I’m not sure why the music cut out then came back later. Music serves to elevate the emotional intensity of scenes like this, and I think it would���ve heightened the scene to have the music continuous to the end of the fight. A moment of silence, followed by the music returning or blood pounding and/or tinnitus ringing noise could’ve worked too.

The ending was okay. I think showing Percy and Grover struggling to walk through the forest, then collapsing once they pass the pine tree would’ve been better, followed by the last scene playing. Instead, we were given two fainting spells/blackouts, which was two too many for my taste.

This is a big world with lots of lore, but it feels as if we sacrificed characters for info drops. Nancy Bobofit and Mrs. Dodds fell flat, and I felt ambivalent towards them, which isn’t great for antagonists. The changes I outlined would have served to give them characterization in their brief appearance, so they felt more like people rather than plot devices. Also, I don't think we ever shown/told that Mrs. Dodds was his pre-algebra teacher, which seems like an odd omission considering the title of the episode.

My favourite parts of the episode were when characters were allowed to just be people and talk to each other. There are times when I don’t mind exposition, but not when characters are sacrificed for the sake of it.

I liked this episode, but I wanted to love it.

This got far longer than I anticipated, so I’ll be making a separate post for episode two.

#percy jackson #pjo series #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo tv show #tv review #pjo #sally jackson #greek mythology #grover underwood #disney plus #disney percy jackson #percy jackson review

[help-me-nah]

some backburner in-the-works potential fic excerpts/teasers! (+ some notes)

I. ghosthunting prequel

A prequel for that October oneshot where they’re all youtube paranormal investigators! All the backstory of Steve and the kids. Bonus: a little bit of Steve and Nancy, a lot of Steve and Jonathan. No Eddie though, bc prequel. Also me chewing on Steve a little, really beating that boy up. Make him cry, make him bleed. Also, probably the next one in the chamber after I get fantasy AU in order.

Sometimes Steve remembers that living in a town with a pretty obvious cult just outside it isn’t actually normal. But everyone in Hawkins has sort of gotten used to it.

The Eleventh Church of Stranded Souls keeps to themselves, and whenever one of their members comes into town for groceries or other supplies, they’re polite and cheerful and don’t say much about the apparent ‘our church can reconnect you with your lost loved ones and commune with the dead’ schtick that draws in new members. (At least, not unless they’re asked, and most of Hawkins chooses not to ask.)

Every couple months someone new drives through town on their way to join the church, and that’s when it’s sometimes a little jarring and weird. Some new arrivals will gush and weep about the church and how they hope it’ll change their life. Some seem far more skeptical, spending a few days in town, asking questions as if anyone in Hawkins knows anything about the cult and how real their claims are. But for all their skepticism, even those visitors often carry an air of desperation. Sometimes they’ll talk about who it is they want to contact. Sometimes they never say what they’re after, but everyone in Hawkins knows. And those same folks are the ones who provide Hawkins with the only answers they have for the next arrivals— they come, skeptical but desperate to talk to a deceased loved one. They visit the Eleventh Church. They return to Hawkins a few days later, teary and starry eyed. Very frequently they leave just long enough to pack up their previous lives, and then they pass through Hawkins once more on their way to join the church. The cult. Whatever.

Steve doesn’t think about it all that much. It’s a part of life in Hawkins, and high school’s a bitch, and Steve’s busy juggling his new relationship with Nancy Wheeler, and the funny feeling in his chest when spending time with her puts her in proximity with her fellow Hawkins Post intern Jonathan, and keeping his grades up enough to keep his father placated, and the weird tension with Tommy and Carol lately, and also how he’s somehow babysitting almost a half dozen kids these days, whose newest obsession is ghost hunting and have been bullying Steve into taking them to every abandoned house in Hawkins.

And yes, Tommy and Carol make fun of him for getting bullied by middle schoolers (and sometimes a single elementary school girl), but they aren’t trying to wrangle four middle schoolers (and the aforementioned elementary school girl). One middle schooler is a stress headache. Two middle schoolers is like trying to walk a tightrope while also walking two uncooperative dogs trying to go in two different directions. Three is a disaster. And four is a fucking hurricane. There’s no controlling that. You hold on for your fucking life and just focus your energy on making sure the stupid bullshit they do is non-lethal stupid bullshit. (Adding Erica to the mix is a whole different beast. Steve’s pretty sure every hour spent with all five takes years off his life. He’s rapidly aging like the puppets in that one movie Dustin insisted on showing him, that left Steve scarred, because Steve was expecting, like, Muppets, not skeletal bird men sucking the life out of bug-eyed Cabbage Patch dolls.)

II. a good old fashioned cliche concert violinist/rock star who are neighbors AU

I mean, what it says on the tin. I know many people have probably done it before, who are far better equipped than I am, but I’m having feelings about it. Pros: getting to play with a Steve who is spinning a lot of plates, still meeting his family’s high expectations but only just barely, everything right on the edge of falling apart. Also, bickering. Cons: To really get it off the ground (bc I’m nitpicky about accuracy but limited in time and energy) might require some help/notes/beta-ing from people whose musical expertise extends past my childhood of piano lessons.

Eddie and the guys have ordered delivery, and in the month and a half of living here Eddie has quickly learned that if you want your food hot, you better hang out in the apartment lobby and wait for it. Because while the little table for delivery in the vestibule (a term Eddie only knows courtesy of Dustin being a smartass) may be nice in theory, Eddie has found that almost every delivery driver, regardless of service, just drops the food there and fucks off without bothering to shoot a text or find the relevant name on the long list of buzzers, and you’ll find your food twenty minutes later, icy-cold.

So Eddie’s in the lobby, shooting the shit with Gareth and Jeff and Vernon, because “We’re here to hang out with you, man, we’ll come with,” and it really does help kill the time.

The elevator dings, and Eddie doesn’t pay it any mind until, “Hey! Asshole!” and he turns to see the pretty violinist from the fifth floor come out of it, scowling. He’s accompanied by the young woman Eddie sees him with more often than not (she’s gotta be a girlfriend, between the cohabitation and the joined-at-the-hip), and both of them are carrying their signature instrument cases.

“Is that bitchy neighbor?” Gareth asks under his breath.

“One and the same,” Eddie confirms, before turning back to the two classical musicians heading down the lobby.

“What can I do for you today, pretty boy?” Eddie drawls, because he knows it’ll piss the guy off.

The guy’s scowl deepens, but oddly enough, he stops as they reach the seating area, swings his violin case up onto one of the lobby couches and begins undoing the clasps.

“Oh my god, Steve,” his partner complains. (Steve, Eddie idly notes, which means pretty violinist is, as he suspected, also the piano tutor Dustin praises and complains about in the same breath.) “Murray is going to fucking kill us if we’re late for rehearsal again, you know that?”

“We’re already late,” pretty violinist— Steve— counters. “And last time was your fault so it’s my turn. I have a point to prove to a certain dickhead who said he’s got ‘no interest in keeping things down for the practice time of someone who can’t even shred.’”

“I just don’t think a prissy classical music snob can possibly understand my process,” Eddie drawls. “I don’t see why I gotta let you choke my sound, babe.”

Steve’s nose wrinkles, and Eddie smirks back at him.

“Oh my god,” groans Steve’s girlfriend. “Do you boys ever tire of all this fucking posturing? This is why I stick with girls.”

“Fuck off, that’s not why,” Steve retorts, hefting the violin to his shoulder and sticking his tongue out at her, and she cracks a smile.

Not a girlfriend then, Eddie notes. (Dangerous thing to think about, a smaller voice in his head chides himself. Pretty and cohabitating with a lesbian friend doesn’t mean available. Also he’s a huge bitch.)

And then Eddie doesn’t think much at all except oh fuck. Because pretty violinist Steve proceeds to play what might be the single most impressive rendition of the solo from Megadeth’s Tornado of Souls Eddie’s ever heard in his life, on his goddamn violin.

“Holy shit,” Jeff murmurs as Steve lowers his violin. “Damn, dude.”

And then Eddie gets to witness Steve’s smile, and it’s fucking radiant, jaw-dropping, overwhelming. And it’s fucking directed at Jeff. Eddie’s suddenly struck with the irrational desire to throttle one of his oldest and best friends.

“Thanks,” Steve says warmly to Jeff.

Then he turns back to Eddie, and his smile drops, and his voice drops back into a familiar acidity. “Fucking keep it down.” The clasps on his violin case snap shut in punctuation.

“Satisfied?” his partner asks drily, though a tiny smile twitches at the corner of her mouth.

“Yup,” Steve tells her cheerily. “We can go now.”

Eddie continues staring blankly after them as they head out of the apartment building. He slowly lowers himself into a chair.

“Oh no,” Eddie hears Gareth say, sounding distant, like Eddie’s hearing it through water.

“Is Eddie smitten?” Vernon laughs.

“I’m pretty sure Eddie’s fully in love,” Jeff says, sounding amused.

“I think that was the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed in my life,” Eddie says faintly.

III. Wayne & Ms. Mayfield

Canon-divergent where Eddie and Max share a hospital room and decide to set Wayne and Ms. Mayfield up. I know it’s a little tacky but also I think it could be fun and cute, and Eddie and Max dynamics are always good to write. Bonus of yet another variant on Harrington family dynamics, with some real old-money rich weirdness. Also, obviously, Max is using the setup to also try and set up Steve and Eddie.

“After you, miss,” Wayne says politely.

Ms. Mayfield laughs, ducking her head self-consciously.

“Haven’t been a ‘miss’ for a while now.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Eddie could swear Ms. Mayfield flushes a little.

“Forgive me for being nosy,” Wayne continues, “But I couldn’t help but notice your car’s been sitting out front your trailer lately,” Wayne continues. “Busted?”

Ms. Mayfield laughs again, this time weary, a little dry. “Thought it had a little more in it before it needed repairs, but guess I was wrong. And, with— well. Can’t exactly afford to fix it now.”

Wayne hums in understanding.

“Let me drive you to work?” he offers.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t—”

“Let me drive you,” he says a little more firmly. “If our kids are gonna be cohabitating, it’s the least I can do.” (“Ugh, come up with a more gross way to put that, will you?” Max complains, and both Wayne and Ms. Mayfield grin at her.)

“‘Sides,” Wayne tacks on, “The Hawkins bus ‘system’ is shit.” Ms. Mayfield laughs again at the sarcastic weight Wayne puts on ‘system,’ given that Hawkins has exactly one bus and two drivers.

(And Eddie’s sure as fuck taking note of how often that laughter’s happening in this conversation with Wayne).

“Pretty sure Mitch drinks on the job,” Wayne continues, “He’s gonna crash the damn thing one of these days. Won’t do anyone any good for you to end up in the hospital too.”

“Well,” Ms. Mayfield says, voice almost teasing, eyes crinkling with her smile, “I suppose if you put it that way.”

Eddie’s eyebrows climb his face.

“Well then,” Wayne says, “Like I said, after you, miss.” He glances back into the hospital room. “You three stay out of trouble for once, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve says.

Max just rolls her eyes.

Eddie beams. “No promises!”

Wayne sighs, Ms. Mayfield laughs (again), and they exit into the hall.

Eddie and Max turn to each other in sync as the door swings shut.

“What was that?” Max asks, arching an eyebrow.

“Damn, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie says.

There’s a very long pause as they stare at each other.

“Your uncle’s a good guy, yeah?” Max says slowly, eyes narrowing in thought.

Eddie can’t help the grin that splits his face.

“The best,” he says.

“Mom hasn’t always had the best taste in men,” Max says. “She deserves someone who’ll treat her right.”

“Would be nice to know Wayne won’t be alone when I inevitably bounce from Hawkins for that rockstar lifestyle.”

“Oh my god,” Steve mutters from the corner.

“Don’t be a wet blanket, Stevie,” Eddie says brightly. “This is gonna be great.”

“You know you two can have your weird insufferable sibling energy without actually setting up your family, right?”

Eddie just sticks his tongue out at him, and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Sure,” Max agrees blithely, and her gaze flicks between Steve and Eddie. “But there’s some fucking matchmaking that needs to be done around here.”

(extra bonus excerpt, in part because I think this is the story least likely to happen, and because I desperately need this little snippet to make it somewhere even if the fic doesn’t:)

“Hey,” a raspy voice comes from the doorway, and Eddie almost doesn’t recognize it.

He blinks at Steve.

“The fuck is wrong with your voice?” Max says.

Steve laughs a little, low and rough, wincing just a little.

“Consequence of getting choked out so many times apparently,” he says. “It’s worse first thing in the mornings, and the doctors think long days or cold ones’ll probably bring it out too. Sounds like I smoke a fucking pack a day, huh?”

“Awful,” Max agrees, grimacing.

Eddie averts his eyes and stares at the ceiling and does not voice the little thought in the back of his head that thinks it’s kind of hot. It’s pretty fucked up. It’s a serious, possibly long-term side effect caused by some pretty brutal trauma, so it’s very inappropriate for his brain to think about how Steve’s voice sounds shredded in the way Eddie’s pretty familiar with after screaming metal lyrics at the top of his lungs for hours, in a way Eddie can imagine might result from other kinds of screaming. (And Eddie’s definitely got some wires crossed because the mental image of Steve at a metal concert, lips pressed to a mic, sweat shining under stage lights almost seems more obscene than sex.)

IV. superkids school

I can’t even say the actual premise of this or do a proper elevator pitch because that would spoil a (relatively early) twist. This one would be angsty. It was originally my ‘rotating my blorbos in my head and chewing on them’ brain fic so it’s very self-indulgent and very heavy on the hurt side of hurt/comfort. Lots of secrets, but counterpoint, getting a very flirty bitchy version of Steve. Still working out all the powers each kid would have, but Steve and Robin are the new hires at a Munson-run school for kids with superpowers. oH also, alive and well Chrissy and Barb!

“It’s not what I expected,” Steve says.

“Were you expecting some big dramatic manor, pretty boy?” an unfamiliar voice drawls, heavy with sarcasm. “A proper rich kid boarding school?”

Steve turns, and there’s no one who knows about the Munson Institute who wouldn’t recognize Eddie Munson—one of the first generation of students, nephew of the current institute head, highly anticipated to take over when Wayne Munson retires, the public face, and, despite the reputation and fame and scrutiny, any abilities he may have are somehow still a secret to the world.

He’s lounging casually against a doorframe, fiddling with a curl of his long dark hair, but despite the air of disinterest, there’s an air of skepticism and disdain in the curl of his mouth, the dark weight of his stare.

Steve bristles, folds his arms across his chest defensively.

“I mean, yeah, kind of,” he says, fighting to keep his voice level and polite. “You’ve managed to keep world governments, military factions, and international espionage at bay for nearly two decades now. So sue me for assuming you must have crazy resources and the facilities to match.”

Eddie Munson snorts, pushes off the doorframe.

“Nancy,” he says, “Come on. We’re really gonna go through with this? Ms. Buckley, absolutely, obviously.”

He turns to Robin with a wide grin, extends a hand. “Never got to learn a second language when my brain was all fresh and elastic, but we’ve been searching for ages for someone who can cover everything the kids wanna try, and your resume? Insane. Plus, I am very partial to music, but everyone’s been fussy that we need someone with proper band and orchestra training, and a wider range of instruments, and that I can’t just teach the kids metal and classic rock on guitar. So I was ready to throw a fucking fit if Murray’s absurd background check requirements didn’t clear for you.”

Robin shakes his hand and grins.

“I mean, I can definitely work in some metal. We can have some fun with Metallica on strings and brass for sure.”

Eddie laughs, delighted.

Then he turns to Steve and his brow arches and the smile turns into something more of a patronizing smirk.

“But do we really need a gym teacher? Let alone one so obviously prissy?”

“Excuse me?” Steve says.

“Eddie,” Nancy says, and Steve’s a little relieved to see that she seems as exasperated as he is, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Physical activity and team sports have been proven beneficial for child development. Just because you’re allergic to organized athletics doesn’t mean you get to take it out on our new hire, or pretend it wouldn’t be great for the children.”

“Nance,” Eddie says, pointing a finger at her, “I can say definitively, absolutely, from personal experience, that gym is quite the opposite of ‘beneficial’ for children’s development.”

And Steve can’t help himself.

“I mean, sorry you always got picked last in gym, Munson,” he scoffs, gratified to see the way Eddie Munson startles, “but even if I wanted to replicate a traditional gym class, which I don’t, it would literally be impossible, because it’s a class of seven children, with superpowers. The day you show me someone who can make an ordinary gym class work with that is the day I shave my goddamn head.”

#fic talk #hit with a read more because this is a fucking #long post #anyways. thoughts? notes? any of these y'all are more excited about? #yes I know this is an insane amount of text #i'm just real excited and it'll be months before any of these see the light of day probably

[justan-0-t-h-3-r]

How do you think Billy reacts if Steve picks him up?( I mean fighting demodogs and chasing after teens is no easy task) Like maybe Steve picking him up by the back of his collar?

Ooohhhh...Good point, he'd be absolutely hench by now. Interesting. 🤔

I'm gonna take them back to the Upside Down for the first time. Steve's already wrangled some of the kids into Nancy's arms so to say so she can get them out but now it's El, Max, Steve and Billy, and they're stuck, so Billy gets on his hero shit, specifically because it's his favourite people, but he'd do it anyway, and Steve is absolutely having none of it. He's been here too many times to lose anyone now, so he sends the girls running ahead and he literally picks Billy up and puts him over his shoulder with such ease.

"Not fucking around today, Hargrove." Is all he says as he's quite literally holding Billy against him, and safe to say, Billy is stunned. He is absolutely in shock that Steve Harrington, who looks unsuspecting weighs probably half of what Billy does, has just...Thrown him over his shoulder like he was one of the kids. The views not bad though, his face is practically at Steve's ass height.

To start with he'd fight it, he's meant to be the hero, the strong one but when he realises he's not getting out of Steve's grip, he has some fun with it, when they're safe though. Billy probably end up grabbing Steve's ass, making jokes about his new strength.

"Damn, Harrington...You're definitely picking me up and pinning me to the wall when we get home."

Steve is in disbelief. They nearly died, and Billy's already making jokes. But it's a welcome break from all the fighting.

Any other situation other than life or death and sex, he'd probably start punching out, blushing unbelievably red as he fought to be put back down. However, it does now mean Billy can jump up at him and know Steve won't drop him.

#billy hargrove #stranger things #steve harrington #harringrove #riley writes random shit because he can #another fun one #thank you #i never thought about Steve being that strong before #now im here for it #riley answers

[robinskey]

Could you maybe write something for Steve where the reader and him date and they always get made fun of by the gang and by Robin but they all love her, and one day Steve and her fight and they all take her side. Thank you so much, and I understand if you can't write it. Thank you❤

Taking Sides

A/N: Thank you for requesting, anon! This took me approximately forever and a day, but I loved every minute of writing it. :) I got a little carried away with the story (as I usually do), so there’s a lot more under the cut. 

Warnings: swearing, angst

When you started dating Steve Harrington, you didn’t expect to gain a bunch of kids, too.

Of course, Steve wasn’t their biological father. The oldest of his friends was seventeen and the rest fourteen. However, they all acted more like nine-year-olds. They had the maturity of fifth-graders at best.

Whenever you were around them, there was constant, merciless, inevitable teasing. Usually, it was over the little things-when you and Steve wore matching sweaters at Christmas time, the way Steve did anything you asked him to without question, or how the two of you always laughed at each other’s terrible jokes. You quickly learned to avoid PDA unless you wanted to deal with incessant mocking. For example, you once accidentally referred to Steve as your “baby boy” in front of Dustin. The kid laughed until he ran out of oxygen in his lungs. Then, he promised that he would exclusively refer to Steve as “baby boy” from now on.

Originally, their jokes and snide remarks started out as a way to test you. They had to make sure you were good enough for their beloved Steve, after all. Before long, though, the gang accepted you as one of their own. Nonetheless, the teasing didn’t stop after they decided they liked you. If anything, it only worsened.

An endless string of dirty jokes ensued every time you and Steve arrived somewhere late because you’d “just lost track of time”-even if you actually had simply forgotten to keep an eye on the clock. Robin often wondered aloud how someone as smart as you could end up with a person whose two brain cells bounced around his skull like ping-pong balls. And on one occasion, you even caught El whispering something to Max about whether or not you and Steve ever had “happy screams” together.

The harassment was relentless. Nonetheless, if it meant spending just a little longer with your favorite person in the world, you could deal with it. Besides, by now, you were in too deep to simply walk out. Steve’s friends had begun to care for you almost as much as they loved him. In some cases, it even seemed like they liked you just a little bit more.

One such situation occurred in the winter of 1985.

It started off as a normal night. You, Robin, Steve, and the party were hanging out in the Wheelers’ basement. After weeks of begging, Will had finally wrangled the gang into a D&D campaign. Max and El, who’d never played, both scrunched up their faces in confusion as Will emphatically explained-or rather, tried to explain-to them the rules.

The kids were crammed around a table with dice, paper, and pens in the middle. When Mike suggested that El sit on his lap “to conserve space,” no one questioned it. After all, Mike was the ringleader of the group, and no one would dare to mess his superhuman girlfriend.

Meanwhile, you couldn’t even sit next to your boyfriend on the sofa-not in the Wheeler house, at least. Once, shortly after you and Steve started dating, the kids had left you and Steve alone in the basement for five minutes while they grabbed snacks. Because you were still in the honeymoon stage of the relationship, it was simply impossible to keep your hands off each other. A little peck on the lips quickly morphed into a full-on makeout session. The two of you got so carried away that you forgot the kids were coming back. Upon returning, they discovered their favorite babysitter shoving his tongue down his girlfriend’s throat. Dustin awkwardly cleared his throat, and Steve gave such a start that he tumbled off the sofa and onto the floor.

After that scarring incident, Mike decreed that, under his roof, you and Steve needed to maintain three inches of distance between each other at all times. It was a completely original rule that he definitely hadn’t ripped off from somewhere, and Robin found it hilarious. She always made sure to act as a barrier separating the two of you “to prevent any funny business.”

Tonight was no different. Robin had squeezed into the narrow space between you and Steve while the three of you chatted on the couch. Now, she was ranting about a particularly annoying regular at Hawkins Family Video.

“…and he wastes so much of my time. Like, the store can be swamped, and he’ll still come up to the desk, looking for recommendations. He constantly asks if we have any recent releases, even though I’ve told him on multiple occasions that new shipments only arrive once a month.”

“Jeez. He must really like movies,” Steve said. When you scoffed, he frowned at you. “What? You don’t think he likes movies?”

“He might. But I’m pretty sure he just likes Robin,” you said. The girl in question rolled her eyes toward the heavens. You didn’t appreciate the attitude. “Oh, come on. He’s clearly just trying to get your attention. Nobody actually likes movies that much.”

“Hey!” Steve pouted. “I like movies!”

Robin glanced at Steve out of the corner of her eye. “Really, dingus? Because when we interviewed for this stupid job, you couldn’t even name one.”

“Well, yeah, but that was only because I was nervous,” Steve said. “I clammed up.”

“Sure it was.” Robin leaned her head back against the couch and turned her face toward you. “You really think he’s trying to flirt with me?”

“Yes, I do. Not that it matters, though. I’m pretty sure sweaty middle-aged guys who wear nothing but stained tank tops is pretty much the opposite of your ‘type.’”

Robin chuckled. “Yeah, you’re right. I think my type is ‘straight girls who are way out of my league.’”

“Hey, that’s my type, too!”

You and Robin both looked over at Steve. A smug smirk tugged at his pink lips; he was clearly proud of the clever contribution he’d just made to the conversation. It was cheesy, sure, but you still appreciated his slightly-clumsy attempt at complimenting you. However, Robin was quick to knock him down a peg.

“First of all, the whole ‘out-of-your-league’ thing is obvious, because you’re…in a league of your own, dingus.” Robin drew a tiny dot in the air with her pointer finger-“This is you”-and another, larger circle off to the side-“and this is everyone else. Besides” -Robin clapped her hands together once- “you’re clearly not just into straight girls. You had a crush on me, remember?”

“At the time, I didn’t know…“ Steve’s voice trailed off as blush crept onto his features.

“No, you didn’t. But that doesn’t mean I was any less of a lesbian when you confessed your love for me,” Robin said, eliciting a laugh from you and a glare from Steve.

“You’re the exception, not the rule,” he said defensively. “And I didn’t confess my love for you. The only girls I’ve ever said the ‘L-word’ to are Y/N and-”

“Nancy!” Robin exclaimed.

The name hit you like a slap in the face. Of course Steve had loved Nancy-you knew that-but Robin didn’t have run around yelling about it. You were about to mention that to Robin when you noticed someone standing at the foot of the stairs to the basement.

Someone needed to put a bell on Nancy Wheeler. She moved gracefully as a snowflake floating to the earth; her footfalls pattered against the ground like sprinkling rain. You sometimes wondered if weighed anything at all, or if helium ran through her blood instead of oxygen, always lifting her toward the heavens. She even dressed like an ethereal being, always wearing pastels, frills, lace, or a combination of all three.

Surprisingly, though, none of those elements had made their way into Nancy’s outfit that night. She wore a form-fitting red dress and matching lipstick. Her hair fell to her shoulders in loose curls, and the low neckline of her dress exposed her collarbones. She wore a touch more makeup than usual; in addition to the lipstick, she had applied a thin layer of eyeliner, blush on her already-rosy cheeks, and dark mascara to elongate her lashes. In spite of the skinny, unstable heels on her feet, Nancy’s smooth gait never faltered as she sauntered toward the sofa.

“Hey, Robin,” she said, then gave you and your boyfriend a nod of acknowledgment. “Steve. Y/N.”

Following Nancy’s lukewarm greeting, the four of you slipped into an uncomfortable quietness. You didn’t have anything personally against Nancy, but you preferred to keep her at a distance. Even though she and Steve had been broken up for more than two years, you knew how strongly he’d felt about her. Those feelings had definitely faded. However, you occasionally questioned whether or not the burning torch he carried for his first serious girlfriend had ever completely burned out.

The reminder from earlier that, once upon a time, Steve had confessed his love for Nancy Wheeler certainly didn’t help the situation. You glanced over at your boyfriend and immediately wished you hadn’t. He gazed at Nancy with wide, somewhat-wishful eyes.

“So,” Robin said, finally breaking the silence, “I assume this isn’t a lounge-around-the-house look.” She gestured to the red dress.

“No, it’s not,” Nancy said with a terse, nervous laugh. “Holly’s staying with a friend tonight, so my mom and dad offered to take Jonathan and me out for our anniversary. Celebrating our one-year with my parents isn’t exactly ideal, but they suggested this really fancy restaurant that we definitely wouldn’t have been able to afford otherwise. I tried to dress nice enough that I’ll be able to blend in-”

“You’re trying to blend in? In that?” Steve blurted.

Nancy’s face fell. “What? You think I’m still underdressed?”

“No, no, no, it’s not that. That’s not what I meant,” Steve stammered. “Red’s a good color on you, actually. You look great.”

The awkward silence returned with a vengeance. Heavy tension hung in the air like thick smog, soundlessly choking you. It even penetrated the little bubble the Dungeons-and-Dragons-playing-preteens had formed around themselves and settled over their conversation, too. No one dared to speak a word.

“We’re ready to go, sweetheart!” Mrs. Wheeler called.

Nancy mumbled something of a goodbye before turning on her heel and sprinting up the stairs. You waited for the sound of chattering voices growing muffled and a door slamming shut. Then, you looked over at Steve.

If he liked red so much, he must have loved the color of your skin.

“What the hell was that, Harrington?” you demanded. Robin, who was still parked in between the two of you, pressed into the back of the sofa, trying to create as much distance as possible.

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, big stupid doe eyes glimmering with perplexity. “I just gave her a compliment.”

“You’re not serious.” When he shrugged, your eyebrows flew into your hairline, and your voice rose an octave. “Steve, you were practically drooling over her.”

“She has a boyfriend, Y/N.”

“Yeah, and you have a girlfriend. But that didn’t stop you from flirting with your ex.”

An echo of “ooh”s sounded from the card table with the kids. When you raised your gaze, it met six pairs of eyes. A couple of them sheepishly cast their gaze downward, but the rest continued to stare unapologetically.

“I need some air.” You hopped up off the couch, grabbed your jacket, and stomped up the stairs. As soon as you were out of sight, everyone’s gaze switched back to the other half of the unhappy couple.

Steve made no move to follow after you. Instead, he stayed put on the sofa, arms crossed over his chest and lips pursed into a pout. If it hadn’t been for his excessively long limbs and the hint of stubble on his chin, one might have mistaken the almost-twenty-year-old for a toddler in time-out.

Once again, Robin was the first one to speak. “I can’t believe-”

“I can’t believe her, either,” Steve interjected. “God, overreact much?”

Robin puffed up her cheeks with air, then blew it out. “Actually, Steve, it’s you I can’t believe. That was a dick move.”

Steve leapt to his feet. His hands landed on his hips as he glowered down at Robin and asked, “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

Robin stood up, too. Even though Steve’s legs were a couple inches longer, it seemed like Robin towered over him as she said, “I’m on the side of reason.”

“And I’m not?”

“Not in this situation,” she said. “You’re in the wrong here, bud.”

Max’s whoop of agreement drew Steve’s attention to the kids. El nodded fervently. Steve, however, waved his hand dismissively and wrote them off with, “Of course you think that. You’re girls.” He turned toward the boys with a desperate glimmer in his eye. “I mean, you guys agree that she’s blowing this out of proportion, right?”

Much to Steve’s chagrin, they all shook their heads. With the exception of Will, all of the boys had something to say. Unfortunately, none of it was what Steve wanted to hear. Mike claimed that it definitely seemed like Steve was hitting on his sister, and Dustin suggested he stay away from Jonathan for a few days, unless he wanted to get his ass kicked again. Lucas warned that Steve was in “really deep shit.”

“Like, take the deepest shit you’ve ever been in,” he was saying, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. “Then, multiply that by a hundred, maybe even a thousand-”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I messed up.” Steve plopped back down on the couch. He ran his fingers through his hair and wondered aloud about what you were thinking right now.

“She’s probably debating whether or not to key your car,” Max piped up. El stifled a giggle.

“God, I hope not. I drove one of my dad’s cars over here, and if that thing comes home with even a scratch on it, I’m dead meat.”

(Fortunately, you hadn’t built up a sufficient store of rage to fuel a desire to do permanent damage to Steve’s vehicle. You were, however, angry enough to trace profanity into the dust on the car. While your act of vengeance would go unnoticed for several days, Mr. Harrington would eventually notice the word “shitface” written in looping cursive on each of the dirty windows and ask his son what kind of dumbass prank he thought he was pulling.)

“Okay, so, what do I do?”

“Go talk to her, dingus,” Robin said, nudging his foot with her own. 

“What do I say?”

“Tell her you know you messed up,” Lucas said.

“And that you’re sorry,” El added.

“And that while Nancy’s hot, Y/N is way hotter,” Dustin suggested, eliciting a “Dude, that’s my sister!” and “Hey, that’s my girlfriend you’re talking about!” from Mike and Steve respectively. The three immediately began bickering.

“Shut up!” Max interrupted. “While you’re here arguing about which hotness-which is incredibly objectifying, by the way-Y/N is out there in the cold, waiting for her asshole of a boyfriend.”

After Max’s harsh words, Steve looked to Robin for reassurance. However, his friend gazed back without an ounce of sympathy. “I hate to agree with your children, but Max is right. You should go before she decides you’re not coming and starts to walk home or something.”

Steve nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. Then, he rose to his feet and retraced the path you’d taken minutes before-up the stairs, through the house, and into the crisp December air. The obnoxiously creaky door announced Steve’s arrival. However, the figure sitting on the porch gave no indication of recognition. 

You sat on the Wheelers’ front step, curled into yourself. You blew air into your bare hands in a vain attempt to warm them. Little clouds of your breath floated toward the star-speckled sky. Your thin jacket wasn’t nearly heavy enough to withstand the bitter cold of the Indiana winter; as a gust of wind blew across the porch, a shudder ran down your spine.

Automatically, Steve shrugged out of his coat. When he draped it over your shoulders, you continued staring straight ahead. As Steve sat on the ground beside you, it took every ounce of self-restraint to keep from wrapping his arm around you, too. The two of you simply existed there together silently for a moment while Steve gathered his thoughts.

“Look, Y/N. I’m really sorry for what I said in there-how I acted.”

Aside from a sniffle, you made no other noise, so Steve continued.

“I made a dumb comment, and then I made the situation a hell of a lot worse by-by everything I did, honestly,” he said. “I was a real dick.”

“Yeah, you were,” you said, finally breaking your unofficial vow of silence. 

“I know.” Steve heaved a hefty sigh. For the next few moments, only the whistling wind dared to make a sound.

Then, you spoke a single word: “Steve.” He’d heard his name hundreds, maybe even thousands, of times. Yet, he’d never heard it like that. No one had ever woven such deep sorrow into his five-letter name.

And when you turned your head, your bloodshot eyes conveyed the exact same sentiment with a million times the intensity.

“You still love Nancy, don’t you?” Though a “no” automatically rolled off his tongue, your somber expression never faltered. The strain was evident in your voice as you told him, “Don’t lie to me.”

Suddenly, the lump in his throat was back with a vengeance. He choked out, “Why would you say that?”

You scoffed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“I saw the way you looked at her, Steve,” you said, though it came out as more of a hiss.

Steve’s single brain cell once again bounced around in his mostly-hollow skull. This time, it desperately tried to connect the dots. What were you talking about? Honestly, as soon as Nancy had come down the stairs in that red dress, he’d blacked out a little. Steve figured he had to be dreaming; he couldn’t believe Nancy Wheeler, who Tommy H and Carol had long referred to as “the school prude”, wasn’t covered from head to toe. 

What you’d mistaken for desire was genuinely just surprise. Steve communicated this to you to this best of his ability, and while your boyfriend certainly wasn’t the most eloquent speaker, you got the point. “Besides,” he said, “you’re way hotter than Nancy Wheeler.”

You gave a small “tsk” vaguely reminiscent of a laugh. “Did Dustin tell you to say that or something?”

“…maybe,” he admitted. When you gave him a playful shove, he knew all was forgiven.

“You know, someday, you’re going to run into trouble, getting dating advice from literal children,” you said. 

“It works in your favor, though. They always take your side.” 

Steve reached for your hand. You watched as your fingers intertwined and winced as his icy palm met yours. It felt more like holding hands with a popsicle than a warm-blooded boy.

“Come on,” you said, pulling him to his feet and starting the three-foot-trek to the front door. “Let’s go inside before you get hypothermia.”

“Wait.” A gentle tug of your hand brought you spinning back into Steve’s arms. “While I can still touch you without Mike Wheeler chiding us for PDA…” 

Steve pressed his blue-hued lips to yours. Somehow, his mouth was still warm-the only part of him, aside from his heart, that the elements could never truly touch, try as they may. Steve tasted of chocolate and sickly-sweet marshmallows from the hot cocoa Mrs. Wheeler had made earlier. This wasn’t the first time you’d kissed him. Yet, Steve still left you lightheaded after he pulled away, as though he’d sucked all of the oxygen right out of your lungs.

“I love you, you know that?” he murmured, leaning his forehead against yours. “I really, really love you.”

“I love you, too, dork.” You kissed his cheek before untangled yourself from him and slipping your palm back into his. “Now, come on. I need to thank your friends.”

“Thank them?” Steve asked, tilting his head slightly like a confused puppy. 

“Yeah,” you said with a wink. “I’ve got to thank them for taking my side.”

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[theawkwardterrier]

things left behind and the things that are ahead, ch. 19

AO3 link here

He wakes up alone that morning. The note that Peggy’s stuck to the bathroom mirror reminds him that she’ll bring Emma and Drea with her after work. (They’d already discussed this together last night, dreamy and worn out as they curled beside each other, but she might have thought him too close to sleep to have remembered.) Perhaps Eric too, she’s written, a hastily added postscript even though it’s above the signature. Emma had mentioned that they were back together, and no matter how much Peggy had been encouraged by their breakup after high school graduation, Steve has the feeling that it will stick this time. It’s fine with him; Eric is a nice person, and Steve doesn’t doubt that Emma will live her life and find success whether they’re together or not. Staying with her high school sweetheart won’t limit that.

He doesn’t technically have work himself - he'd been called in on Saturday, and was taken off the schedule for today in exchange despite his protestations - but if he slides into the office around 10, Bella will be shut up doing budgeting and he can tuck himself away without being noticed. He needs the distraction.

Nate’s already down in the kitchen when he gets there, although he’d finished with school yesterday and doesn’t really need to be up either. He’s hunched over a book at the table but glances up when Steve enters.

“Food on the stove,” he says, removing the fork he has stuck absently in his mouth. The plate already on the table in front of him has the remnants of his own portion of scrambled eggs, along with traces of the strawberry jam he likes to mix in with them. It’s a good thing Emma isn’t here yet: she thinks it’s a sin.

Steve brushes a kiss to his head on the way past. “Thanks,” he says, going to fill a plate. They’re all used to Steve’s metabolism: Nate left probably eight eggs worth in the pan despite his own teenaged appetite. He sits down across from his son, whose nose is back in his book, another one of the science fiction novels he loves. Nate isn’t a fast reader - he spends a lot of time thinking about what he’s reading, taking in the words, their implications, what it all means - but he is steady and voracious. His bookshelves upstairs are lined with carefully cracked paperback spines, slotted in one at a time as he finishes them.

“What are you up to today?” Steve asks.

Nate finishes his page and looks up, blinking, though more from leaving another world than from the bright sunlight filling the kitchen. “There was a problem at the printer and they didn’t get the yearbooks done in time to sign them in school, so we’re all going to Nancy Taylor’s house to do it there instead. Then we have graduation ceremony rehearsal at the school anyway, so we’ll probably go over there all together.”

“Sounds good.” Steve focuses on forking up more eggs. Of all of his children, Nate would probably best accept his tearing up over the thought of these kids spending one last assured day together before they all go their separate ways, but it’s a little early for him to start falling apart.

The work distraction is actually fairly successful. With Mary Alice’s retirement, his caseload has increased, and he manages to lose himself in files and phone calls for most of the day. He doesn’t even notice that he’s worked through lunch until Bella, finished wrangling the budget for now and in a mood from the effort, tells him loudly that even if he is going to ignore both her instructions and official regulations, he isn’t going to starve while he does it. He gives a token protest, but ends up biting ravenously through a couple of sandwiches as he stops at red lights on the way across town for a home visit he’d been able to hastily set up.

It’s actually easy to check his personal life at the door when he’s talking to families, to the kids he works with. His feelings can matter later; it’s the job that he needs to focus on now.

He’s surprised when he returns to the car and finds that it’s 4 PM. By the time he has gone back home, changed clothes, and driven over to the school, it’s about forty-five minutes to the start of the ceremony. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he sets off across the grass of the sports field where they have set up a small stage and seating all around. Back when Rose and Drea had graduated, the school had chosen to use the auditorium, but Steve guesses that the weather today was too fine to resist. The temperature has dropped from its peak of several hours ago, and a breeze brushes through his hair.

He stakes out seats, making sure to get an extra for Eric just in case. He sees some people he recognizes: parents and siblings who he’s run into around town or at past school functions for Nate and the girls, Nate’s old English teacher Mrs. Krentz, who comes over to gush praise again even though she retired last year. He tries to store away the details of it all to tell Bucky about in their next phone call; Libby will be graduating in just a couple of years. (Buck will probably have another one of his good-natured breakdowns when it happens, starting off with mentioning how young most of the other graduates’ parents are.) Mostly, though, he sits and waits.

Drea finds him first. There’s a looseness to her spine, a grin on her face, as she walks across the grass, says, “Hi, Dad!” and wraps her arms around him. Though she likes school and he can see the little smile that lives at the corners of her mouth even when she is simply telling people where she’s at college, there’s a feeling each time they drive up to Cambridge that she is constructing defenses, restructuring herself in some way. All of that is gone today. She’s wearing a belted denim dress - she never went in for Emma’s long florals, or the sorts of busy patterns and fire-bright colors that Rose prefers - and she’s gotten her hair cut since he last saw her. It’s just a couple of inches, but he smoothes a hand over it as they embrace.

“It’s good to see you,” he says quietly. “I know Nate’s looking forward to it.” The day Nate had called with the date of the graduation, Drea had circled it on her calendar while he was still on the phone (“In red, Nate, I promise”) and when they’d hung up, Steve watched him smiling with unconscious excitement. It’s not that he mopes around, whining over being left behind as his sisters have gone off one by one, and it’s not that he loves Emma and Rose less, but it’s still unfamiliar to him, being apart from Drea.

“I guess I could stand to see him,” Drea says, shrugging, but she is smiling too.

Peggy comes up behind Drea as she is pulling away. Emma and Eric are with her, Em’s hand tucked into Eric’s back pocket. Peggy catches Steve’s eye as he takes that in, raising an eyebrow and pulling her mouth just barely to the side. Steve covers a grin by dipping to kiss her cheek.

“Lovely group of seats,” she says innocuously as Steve turns to greet the other two.

They all settle in beside each other. Peggy always likes the aisle seat - quick egress - and Drea slides in after her, Emma and Eric next, and Steve bracketing the other end. Emma talks about her summer courses. Drea tells stories about Tony’s antics, the mischief he’d gotten into as he tried to prevent her from leaving even for just a few days; she’s obviously charmed by that in a way that Steve isn’t sure he would be.

The seats fill up around them, chattering relatives and friends, staff members. It is almost time.

The crickets are starting to chirp, but Pomp and Circumstance drowns them out, the high schoolers in the band clearly putting their all into it. The graduates enter in twos, each member of the pairs representing one of the school colors. Nate walks with Jillian Lee. Nate went out with Jilly on a couple of occasions, but not much came of it as far as Steve knows. She is standing very straight and walking steadily, wearing a respectable green cap and gown. Nate is stuck in the version that’s meant to be the corresponding gold but looks instead like unfortunate mustard. The robe doesn’t even fit him right, slightly too short above the ankle and draping loosely over his bony shoulders, but he manages to pull it off just through his own lack of perturbation over those facts.

As the last of the graduates file into their seats and the band silences their instruments, Drea intones quietly, “Guests, faculty, scholars,” anticipating Principal Connor’s traditional, pompous opening. After a bit of microphone feedback, he echoes her precisely, and Steve, smiling and shaking his head, angles himself to begin translating the words for Emma and Eric. Em places a hand on his after only three sentences.

“This speech - I think I can quote all of it now.”

Steve looks up at the stage. Principal Connor raises a finger in the air to emphasize a phrase. “That’s new,” Steve points out. Em rolls her eyes.

“Only one more time,” she says, hands weighty and mouth parted to emphasize the exhaustion of it all.

“Only one more time,” Steve repeats, the words coming slow and numbed on his fingers. He feels a little stricken and barely manages a smile for her.

The valedictorian and salutatorian speak one after the other. It’s obvious that they, at least, have written new speeches of their own: the words of triumph and hope, of lessons learned and more to come, might be cliche, but they are still somehow new. Even if he’s heard nearly the same sentiments at the girls’ graduations, for these kids, they are only just discovered.

When it is Nate’s turn to walk across the stage, he does it with a firm step and his family cheering loudly from the crowd. Steve, applauding hard, can’t even tell if he can pick them out in the audience, but he watches Nate raise his diploma in the air with a smile on his face and is certain that it’s meant for them. It is that same smile Steve knows so well, that peaceful, open-armed upturn of the mouth that Nate has displayed since childhood. Sometimes Steve thinks that Nate was born smiling like that, that this was the way he greeted the world on his first moment in it. He’ll never know if he’s right - that first smile belonged to someone else - but he has a lifetime of Nate’s smiles saved up and that’s something that not many people have.

As Melvin Casper is called next and they all sit back down, he and Peggy catch eyes, even down the row from one another. Despite the smile he gives her, she tilts her head, closes her eyes in an understanding blink which she holds for a beat longer than usual. I know, it seems to say, but also, How lucky have we been?

There’s a bit of a debate regarding the pictures. Nate fights his way through the crowd to find them with Emma and Peggy in the middle of a standoff over whether Eric should be included in the family photos and Steve and Drea are trying to make polite, distracting smalltalk with the man in question.

“Eric can take four, five,” Nate compromises calmly, “and then we’ll find someone to take some with him.” He searches around for a moment, then raises his voice. “Ricky! Hey, Rick, come over here for a minute.”

Ricky Blake, cap in hand, has been standing nearby, taking his own turn to greet Mrs. Krentz. He glances over at the Carters, at Nate and his beckoning hand, and excuses himself.

“What’s up?” he asks as he walks over, and Steve notices that he’s lost the awkward sort of meticulousness to the way he does the sign. He does it confidently now, casually, even if he doesn’t quite have the accompanying mouth movement down.

Eric actually has a good, artistic eye and arranges them all so that Nate is the center of the photos without throwing his shadow onto the rest of them.

When they’re finished, Steve goes to reclaim the camera.

“How are you, Ricky?” He puts out a hand to shake. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Mr. C.” A grin spreads across Ricky’s face as he grasps Steve’s hand enthusiastically. Even when Steve first met him, he was slightly bigger than average for a kid his age. Now Steve looks firmly up at him; he’s probably six and a half feet tall, and solid across. His graduation gown, unzipped in front by this point, has clearly been altered to fit him. He looks around. "Rose couldn't come?" He's always had a bit of a fascination with Rosie.

"No, she wasn't able to take the time off of work. She'll call tonight."

"Too bad."

“Did you decide on your plans for next year?” Steve asks. The last time they spoke, a few months ago, Ricky was still considering whether he wanted to end up at GW like Nate. He’d laid out the entire pro-con list while leaning against the counter watching Steve make carrot cake and waiting for Nate to finish getting ready for the concert they were going to.

“I’ll be staying in state,” Ricky replies, and though Steve is watching closely, his smile does not slip, the light in his eyes does not dim. “Maryland has a better education program anyway, for undergraduates at least.”

Steve can feel his eyebrows jump up. “Education?”

“Yeah.” Ricky glances back over his shoulder. “I was just telling Mrs. Krentz. I want to be an English teacher.”

“You’re going to be great at it,” Steve says with confidence. He doesn’t bother asking how Earl Blake took this news.

“Thanks, Mr. C.” Ricky looks down at the ground and then back up. He fiddles with the tassel on the cap he is still holding. He clears his throat. “I just—I wanted to tell you how much you helped me. You’re a good listener, and—um, it was important to me, to watch you with your kids or talking about your work. So, thank you. I just wanted you to know.”

For a moment, Steve can't say anything. Finally, he manages to speak. "I don't think I did much," he says with soft feeling, "but if I did, it was my pleasure."

There's always a bit of a wrench watching Ricky go back to rejoin his family. He's taller even than his father now, but there's still a little stiffening to Ricky's shoulders when they are near each other. Tim, still only just gaining some height of his own, shifts to stand beside his brother.

He thinks about how everyone still calls him Ricky, a child's name. He could have grown up into a Rich or a Richard by now, but he hasn’t. Perhaps he will never make the change. Or perhaps it just isn’t time yet: how easy it is to see Ricky and Nate and all the others on this day, at the top of a climb, and to think that it is all over. Maybe he should try to remember that it is only just beginning.

Peggy is leaning against his chest, his arm around her, before he even fully registers her there.

"We've done well, haven't we," she says, looking over at the children with pride, and he nods against her and kisses her hair.

"More to come?" he asks, a little waver in his voice, and she looks up at him, surprised.

"Of course," she says, taking his hand. "Always."

The custodial staff is beginning to come in to fold up the chairs. It is time to go.

"I want to finish telling Mom something," Drea says as they head over to the parking lot. "I'll ride with her."

Emma has her bag in Peggy's car, so she and Eric decide to join them as well. Steve squeezes Peggy's hand, still in his. She looks up at him fondly. Em's as stubborn as she is, and clearly trying out her version of exposure therapy. It's a good thing that Eric's a good sport.

"What about the man of the hour?" Peggy asks, looking over at their son. "Are you certain you don't want a nice dinner out?"

"I told you what I wanted," Nate says. Steve has the lasagna already prepared to go into the oven as soon as they get home. Every restaurant in town will be crowded tonight anyway, but that's not the reason Nate chose it. "And I'll ride over with Dad."

Peggy's parked farther in. She parts from Steve with one last squeeze of the hand and a "See you in a moment." Nate and Steve walk over to Steve's car together.

"How are you feeling?" Steve asks.

Nate takes in a deep breath of the night air. "Really good. Proud. Excited. Tired, a little, too." He looks over at his father. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. Proud of you." Steve repeats. "A little sad that this part of things is over."

"Sure," Nate says easily. "But there are other parts. And I want you there for all of those. We all do."

Steve looks over at him. “You ready for what comes next?” he asks.

Nate stretches his hands up toward the slowly darkening sky, fingers spread on one, diploma still held tightly in the other. “Course I am,” he says. The departing crowd is loud, all shouts and laughter and car engines, Nate’s voice quiet even in its surety, but Steve hears it anyway. He would hear it anywhere.

He looks at his youngest, taller than he is now by a half inch, maybe a bit more. It’s clear that Drea and Nate have height in their genes. His slim build, the lankiness of his limbs, just makes him look even taller, but he’s never seemed awkward with it. Nate always just puts one foot in front of the other, attentive about it but confident too, trusting that he’s placed himself on solid ground.

“Course you are,” he agrees. Under the beginnings of the slimming moon, he puts an arm around his son’s shoulders, pulls him close, and holds tight.

More chapters here

#Steggy #Steggy fic #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #things left behind fic

[hopewritcs]

dancing in the kitchen. six.

pairing: romantic steve x reader, familial dustin x reader, friendship nancy x reader

word count: 1.2 k

summary: without giving too much away: the reader is Y/N Henderson, Dustin’s older cousin who’s staying in town, due to some family issues. takes place soon after s2.

note: sorry this is so short--and that it took 300 years to get to. i’ve been so busy, but now that i’ve graduated college (woo!!) and most of my exams are done, i’m in a regular routine again so i should be able to actually update this (and other fics) regularly. pls like/comment. i love u all. (also i’m reposting this bc it didn’t show up in the tags??? thanks tumblr u suck lol

other chapters: masterlist

tag list: @stevieboyharrington, @lola-winston-harrington, @fuckthatfeeling​,@thekidsofneibolt, @labgeek, @tyedyedstars, @samisimportant, @madhatterweasley, @pity-mee, @l4life, @veryweirdintrovert, @restlessmelodrama, @darkuserboxes,@princessnancy, @hipsmcgee, @wtf-richarddd (if you wanna be added to the tag list, let me know!!)

Y/N’s face was hot she honestly felt like she was going to explode. She couldn’t even turn to look at Steve’s face. Everything about this felt too awkward. Silent and awkward.  What was Y/N supposed to do? Distract everyone with food and hope they forgot the assumption of her and Steve dating.

“Y/N and Steve are what?” Dustin asked, his voice loud as his head whipped around between the pair and then looked back at Jane who had been the one to announce it to the room. “They’re not dating, El. My cousin is not dating Steve. There’s no way.”

Y/N was gripping tightly to the cloth in her hands. She had no words for this entire situation. She was embarrassed.  Would her secret harbored crush be outed right then and there? She surely hoped it wouldn’t--that might make this night too awkward for her to handle.  And, to be fair, it was already pretty awkward.

“Are you saying your cousin wouldn’t date me?” Steve asked, throwing himself into the conversation with a bit of a smirk.  Though he was much more confused as anyone else in the room.  He was attempting not to show the confusion in his appearance and presentation. “I mean, I’m a catch, Henderson.” Steve gestured to himself in a semi-cocky way with a waggle of his eyebrows.  

Everyone in the room either rolled their eyes or laughed at what Steve had said, but it was Dustin who actually addressed the comment. “Okay Farrah Fawcett.”

That got Y/N’s attention as she turned to look over at Steve at the comment, “Farrah Fawcett?” she snorted out a giggle and then covered her mouth with the dish cloth.

“I’m going to kill you, Dustin.” Steve said as he raced forward and lunged for the younger boy--wrapping an arm around him and rubbing his fist into the curly hair.

“No, wait, we have to hear this story.” Nancy explained with a small chuckle as she looked at Steve and Dustin.

Dustin wrangled himself out of Steve’s arms and went to the table to join his friends. He shot Steve a death glare before turning to the friends and discussing strategy for tonight. For a moment, the room was silent from the change of pace. But everyone fell into the routine forgetting the dropped conversation.

As the night wore on, Y/N watched Dustin and his friends participate in the game. The laughter and competition was contagious, and honestly she loved being around all of them.  The friendship.  The family.  It was something she had missed.

After a couple of hours of playing, the group was getting hungry again. Y/N had taken out an angel food cake she’d bought earlier.  However, she forgot to check the freezer before getting the dessert ready.  So, she sighed, and turned to the kids. “Alright, I need to run out and get some ice cream. The diner’s still open, so I’ll be back soon.” she explained, tapping Dustin’s head with a smile. “I’m taking your bike munchkin.” she commented, turning around to grab her jacket.

“It’s pretty dark out, why don’t I drive you?” Steve asked, already standing up from the couch.

Y/N shook her head, “Thanks. But I’ll be okay.”

Meanwhile Nancy had tapped Jonathan’s arm and grabbed the keys from him and stood up herself. “Y/N, how about I drive? You did all this stuff, it’s only fair.”

After a moment, Y/N nodded, “Okay.” she buttoned up her jacket and turned back to wave to the group before heading out the door with Nancy.  “Thanks for offering.” Y/N said with a smile as she got into the Byers’s car. She turned to look at Nancy as they pulled out of the drive.

“Well, honestly, Steve was right. You shouldn’t be biking out this late. Especially on Dustin’s bike. But I figured the last person you wanted to leave with was him. After what El said.” Nancy explained quietly, glancing back at Y/N with an almost worried look in her eyes.

“Why did she say that? I mean...we’re not dating. He doesn’t....I don’t...” Y/N sighed, running her hands through her hair as she leaned back against the passenger seat.

Nancy bit her lip to hold back a small chuckle at her friend’s obvious frustration. She knew that Y/N had a crush on Steve, and worried about how it would work out.  Despite not knowing how Y/N had wound up back here in Hawkins, Nancy could tell something had happened.  And she worried about her friend.  But she wanted Y/N to be happy.  So she wanted to help Y/N understand that she could be with Steve.  Or, at the last, tell him how she was feeling.

“You do.” Nancy chided, nudging her friend as she drove. “You totally have the hots for Steve.  It’s understandable.” Nancy giggled.

“I do not!” Y/N immediately shot back, halfway through Nancy saying she had the hots for Steve. Her face was flushed again. After a moment, Y/N shrugged her shoulders and sighed, “So what if I do?  It’s not like he likes me too.  Plus, I’m in no position to date.”

“Listen, Y/N, I know you don’t want to talk about whatever happened to make you move here with your Aunt, but it doesn’t, like, define you.” Nancy explained.  If only Y/N knew what they had been dealing with the past year and a half.  If only she knew.  “We all have a past, right?”  Some of us more deadly than others.

“I just can’t...I can’t tell anyone.  Everyone would judge me and think so different of me.  I wouldn’t be Dustin’s cool older cousin.  I’d be that gossipy bitchy girl.  And that’s...not me.  Not anymore.” Y/N explained, wringing her hands in her lap as she glanced around nervously.  She was still coming to terms with everything.  She didn’t want to explain it to everyone.  

“Well, you can tell me anything and I won’t judge you.  You’re practically my sister, anyway.” Nancy put her hand on top of Y/N’s with a smile as she pulled into the diner parking lot.  

“You really are the best friend.” Y/N expressed, pulling Nancy into a hug before the pair got out of the car.  

Y/N and Nancy got a variety of flavors for the ice cream, including a couple different toppings.  They came back into the house to see the group fighting over what film to watch.  The girls came in unnoticed, until the group heard clamoring in the kitchen.  

“Ice cream!” the kids shouted and bounded into the kitchen.  

“Whoa, back up munchkins.  Can we at least set up the sundae station or do you all want to be animals?”  Y/N snorted, laughing.  “Jane, can you grab some bowls for everyone? And Dustin, why don’t you grab some spoons and stuff for the bowls, and then some serving ones too?” Y/N asked, not turning around as she worked on getting the ice cream and toppings out of the bags with Nancy.  And within a couple of minutes they had everything set up on the kitchen table and everyone was preparing their own ice cream.  

Y/N grabbed two scoops of her favorite flavor and put in a slice of angel food cake and sprinkles.  She watched as everyone gathered things for their own ice cream and then the whole group filed into the living room.  The kids continued to fight over a movie to watch for the night, and the teens threw in some ideas here and there.  In the end they picked a classic Hitchcock film and got settled in for the night.  

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #dancing in the kitchen #uh wow i suck??? this took so long #pls love me still #also the reader gets a cuTE ASS FRIENDSHIP SCENE W NANCY (imo)

[upside-nwod]

Love and Light (Full)

Some people suggested that I post this separately without the link to AO3 so here you go if you’re like me and usually too lazy to click on links to take you to a story.

This was supposed to just be a little headcanon about El hanging fairy lights in her room and then I went overboard.

When El finally got her own bedroom after moving in with the Byers, she was incredulous, surprised that she could have anything of her own. Everything she had received outside of the lab thus far was borrowed; Nancy's dress, Mike's watch, Hopper's shirt. She entirely overlooked the concept of ownership. So when Joyce proceeded to tell the small girl that she could decorate said room however her little heart desired, she was over the moon.

A room— or anything of her own— wasn’t something she was used to. Sure, she had a bedroom in the lab, if one could even call it that. It’s sterile white walls with their looming steel doors were cold and unforgiving. It just wasn’t the type of place most people thought of when they hear the word home.

The walls there had eyes and ears and she knew it. Someone was always watching. Men and women came and went as they pleased poking and prodding at her with instruments and reading data from machines. More than once, she was awoken by Papa in the earliest hours in the morning (or so it felt considering she had no sense of time in the compound) for especially difficult tests and assignments as well.

The simple decorations, a purple flower Papa had given her, and a picture she drew of them together did nothing to calm her nerves at the idea of being under constant vigilance.

In contrast, the newly painted Byers household was always warm and inviting. Despite it’s charred and stained carpet, the imperfections in the house proved a family had grown together there and that was something El yearned for.

She now considered home to be the smell of cigarettes and syrup from morning breakfast that never seemed to fade, but she didn’t mind. To her, it became a familiar scent of safety and comfort. She couldn’t wait for that smell to seep into her new sheets.

The pair spent the entire weekend in different department stores searching for furniture and items that made El feel at home. These objects ranged from things she deemed pretty, such as her new comforter with it’s cotton candy colored patchwork, to things she and the boys enjoyed. They had just shown her Star Wars for the first time earlier that week and when she saw a poster with Han and Leia together she begged Joyce for it.

Upon hearing the news of the remodel, Nancy even scoured the basement in search of her old desk while Joyce and El were out. She and Jonathan repainted it together. They chose a soft cream color and even attached a makeshift vanity mirror to it, per Nancy’s request. (She was so excited to have a “sister” that she could hangout with and teach things like study tips and makeup).

However, despite El’s eagerness to venture into the world and go shopping, it was also difficult for the formerly isolated girl to choose from so many options. Not only did she encounter a dizzying amount of choice and free will, she still didn't know what a lot of the furniture and decorations were for.

She knew a lamp would provide light and that a bed was for sleeping in and that they came in all sorts of shapes and sizes, but why did she need a dresser if she had a closet? What use did she have for a small table to put next to the bed? She had no idea there was even a possibility of her using more than one drawer to store her belongings.

Slowly, these questions started to weigh down on her shoulders. Luckily, she was getting more comfortable with asking people other than Mike about the world around her.

Joyce was one of those people. She always answered El’s questions warmly and today was no exception. When Eleven asked her about even the most trivial things, such as why some of the boxes she investigated played music when they opened, Joyce was happy to explain.

Joyce always paused between new concepts so that El could take in all the new information. Sometimes she even used bigger words to challenge the girl, but not enough to confuse her more. The experienced mother knew Eleven was bright and she felt it was her duty to help El realize how wonderful she really was.

However, El began feeling overwhelmed near the end of their stint in furniture store, but tried to put on a stoic face as to not worry the older woman. But, as a single mother of two sensitive boys and now one formerly abused, telepathic girl, Joyce was extremely attentive to changes in her children’s behavior.

The quiet girl was being even quieter than usual after her barrage of questions. When she hadn’t looked up from her shoes after five minutes, Joyce decided to intervene. She knelt down to eye level with the girl and gently placed her hands on El’s shoulders. El relaxed slightly at her mother’s touch and gazed at her, a gentle expression on the woman’s face.

“Y’know what, sweetie, I’m feeling kind of hungry. What about you?” Joyce asked.

El, though unsure why Joyce had such a sudden change in disposition nodded her head and grinned.

And truth be told, El wasn’t even sure they were done shopping, but she was secretly grateful for the escape.

“Great!” Joyce chirped. Then an idea dawned on her. “I just have to make a quick phone call.”

Earlier, Joyce had been adamant about getting all the shopping done early today so they would have the rest of the night to set up the furniture and decorate her room. Seeing the toll the day was taking on El, though, changed her mind.

She asked El to wait by the car while she dialed up Hopper at the payphone. He picked up after three rings, his voice gruff from just waking up.

“Hop, it’s Joyce,” she stated.

“Yeah, Joyce, what’s up?” He coughed out.

“El and I were here at the furniture store and she started getting a little overwhelmed so I thought maybe we’d go get something to eat,” her words fast.

“Okay…” he paused thinking she would continue. She didn’t so he bit, “what does that have to do with me?”

“Well, I was thinking maybe we could walk to the diner down the block and you could wrangle up the boys and Jonathan and Nancy and you guys could take my car and start setting up El’s room?” She shut her eyes tight as her voice got higher with anticipation, knowing it was a large request. She screwed up her face as if the police chief could see it and it would somehow bend his will. Her eyes shut and mouth pursed in hoping he would agree.

Hopper sighed into his just-lit cigarette and ran a hand through his receding hair, taking an unnecessary moment to mull it over. He already knew his answer; of course he was going to do it. That little girl helped save Hawkins. The least he could do was set up a damn bed.

“Keep the key in the visor,” he said before hanging up.

When the mother-daughter duo returned home early in the evening, El, refreshed after taking a break for fries and a milkshake was once again abuzz with excitement. Of course, she hadn’t known that Hopper had picked up the bed and other furniture from the shop in his Blazer and set everything up with the help of the boys. She also hadn’t noticed that the car had moved one space to the left of their original parking spot when Jonathan and Nancy secretly returned it after dropping off the rest of her room decorations.

El was anxious to help Joyce unload the trunk, but to her dismay, the small woman headed straight for the door claiming she wanted Jonathan and Will to also help unload the car. El followed Joyce reluctantly to the porch. When the door opened, El was surprised to see her friends standing amongst eachother in the living room grinning at one another. As she stepped over the threshold, all eyes were on her

Hopper, Nancy, and Jonathan were standing near the couch, their conversation cut short by the girl’s return. Hop put his cigarette out as soon as he saw them, secretly excited to watch El’s reaction to the surprise they had in store. Nancy gave a slight wave and shy smile, and Jonathan stood, camera in hand, of course, flashing her a proud smirk.

The boys huddled in the opposite corner of the living room grinning at her as well. Will tried to hide his eagerness through a crooked smile, but his teeth began to show anyway. Lucas stood next to him, his eyes lighting up upon her arrival. Dustin, of course, crinkle-eyed and toothless as ever, could barely contain his excitement. And then there was Mike, whom, after making eye contact, immediately started to investigate the floor, a blush creeping up his neck and flushing his cheeks.

El was glad to see them, but also confused. She didn’t think there were any holidays today. Someone would have told her if they were celebrating something so that she would be prepared. She knew everyone’s birthday now as well and no one had one anytime soon.

She turned to Joyce, seeking explanation. As if on cue, the boys began speaking up in a flurry of quips and jabs.

Dustin’s loud voice rang over the other boys first. “Finally, you’re home! We’ve been waiting forever!” He laughed.

“Yeah, El. How long does it take to pick out a damn comforter?” Lucas teased.

Mike spoke up now to reassure her that she did nothing wrong even though El had gotten used to their banter and knew better by now.

“That new Indiana Jones movie came out last week and we thought maybe you and Will would wanna go see it with us.” He paused, unsure if she knew what movie they were talking about. “It’s that one with Harrison Ford in it. The same guy who plays Han Solo in Star Wars.”

El nodded eagerly. She loved going to movies with the boys. The theater made her feel like she was in another world experiencing adventures she knew Hawkins couldn’t offer her. Movies also meant two hours of popcorn, Mike leaning in close to explain things to her in hushed tones, which always made her blush for some reason, and Dustin and Lucas inevitably bickering as soon as the credits roll.

But then it dawned on her; it was Sunday. There was no way they would be allowed out this late on a school night. It was already almost eight o’clock and the boys would have to bike home soon.

She returned her attention to Joyce who had made her way to Hopper’s side. Joyce looked down at her and smiled, catching on to the boys’ plan. It was evident Mike had fabricated a convincing story that explained their being there. There was no need to explain Nancy or Hopper’s presence as they were regulars at the house anyway and they obviously didn’t have the same curfew rules.

“Well, maybe just this one time… as long as your parents are okay with it,” she stated, eyeing the boys. They all nodded in agreement.

“They already called and asked since we weren’t sure when you would be home,” Will offered.

Joyce grinned at the resourcefulness of her youngest son and looked at El. “You guys can catch the final showing tonight but only if you grab a jacket. It still gets a bit chilly at night and with you guys riding your bikes…” she trailed off.

The group let out a small cheer and thanked Mrs. Byers profusely, selling the point. El smiled  and thanked Joyce as well before rushing to get a familiar navy windbreaker from her closet. The group surged forward and followed her down the narrow hall quietly, trying not to be suspicious in the tight space.

Everyone held a collective breath as El opened her door and took a few tentative steps into the room. The group huddled in the doorway watching their friend react to something that was finally her own. Joyce had put Hopper’s arm in a vice grip in anticipation.

El’s jaw had dropped upon seeing the remodel. Jonathan wormed his way through the throng of people so that he could get some shots in of her expression. She may not be the best with words, but this had left her a different type of speechless.

What used to be a drab room with off-white walls and a solid comforter became a mishmash of pastel colors, furniture that didn’t quite seem to match, and knick knacks they had picked up that day, such as action figures and a few stuffed animals. Her bed was centered against the wall so that the foot of it faced the window. The other walls were no longer bare, instead decorated with her few posters and some drawings Will had given her in the past.

Perhaps her favorite part, though, was the hand-me-down vanity that sat next to the door. To her, it was beautiful. On the vanity sat a small makeup kit, courtesy of Nancy, and a few polaroids of the people she held dear taped up to the mirror. Immediately, she was taken back to the moment she stepped out of The Wheeler's bathroom over a year ago and examined herself in the mirror, feeling pretty for the first time ever.

Back in the present, she spun slowly in a circle trying to memorize every detail as if the memory may disappear. She feared forgetting the feeling of warmth that spread throughout her chest.

Joyce took a tentative step forward, squeezing past the mass of bodies.

“Now listen,” her voice soft but adamant, “I know this is your room and we kind of put everything up and decorated it without asking, but I saw how overwhelmed you got at the store and I just thought this might be a nice surprise, y’know? It would be a whole let less work on our part.” She winked a thank you at Hopper and returned her attention to El. “I mean, if you don’t like where they put stuff we can always move and rearrange it…” Her voice trailed off wondering if what she was saying even mattered as the girl hadn’t reacted to her voice.

El turned around fully now, facing everyone, beaming. “It’s perfect,” she whispered as she leaped into Joyce’s arms. Tiny tears of joy spilled over her cheek. The group in the hallway let out a collective breath before squeezing into the room to join in the hug.

After a few moments, however, she pulled away and looked to everyone surrounding her. Her eyes found Mike’s and her forehead creased. “Wait,” she paused, “what about movie?”

That night, after everyone left, (they had collectively laughed at the little girl's concern and decided to see the movie next weekend), El settled into her new bed and hoped for sweet dreams. She thought about her friends and family and the grand gesture they performed for her.

If Papa had told Eleven that one day she would be taught the meaning of words such as “friend” and “promise,” she would have looked at him confused and probably terrified. Now though, she couldn’t imagine life without these concepts and she didn’t want to. She had friends and made promises and she was learning new words every day. Like how freckles are the stars on Mike’s face and contemplation is what Hop does when he drinks his morning coffee. Or how there’s more than one word for pretty but Will doesn’t mind if she uses it to describe his drawings anyway.

Yet, despite her hope for a peaceful night’s rest, fear was always just around the corner for El Byers. It had a way of sneaking up on her sometimes regardless of how much she tried to prepare herself. She had always been afraid of the dark after all her time spent in The Room and The Upside Down. Even though she knew she was far from the lab and the bad men, there was still always going to be that vague sense of uneasiness. It wasn’t until the house was completely silent, when not even Chester, the dog, stirred, did she realize how dark it was in her room.

She tried her best to fall asleep but was unable to close her eyes for more than a few seconds. The darkness was suffocating. She worried about the shadows that seemed to move in the dark and the tree that scratched like the Demogorgon's claws outside her bedroom window. Or the fact that the door wasn't open enough for her to be able to breathe  which made her cringe, but she just couldn’t seem to concentrate enough to push it open even slightly.

The blackness that surrounded her found it’s way to her through and she began to choke. A feeling of heat washed over her, sweat beading at her forehead. Her temperature rose with panic. She tried to take deep breaths like Mike and Joyce had told her. In for four. Hold. Out for seven. Repeat. But it didn’t help. Not this time.

After little progress, El began receding into herself. She curled into a ball and pulled the blanket over her head, white-knuckling the sheets to keep them in place as if the blanket could protect her from even the most grotesque monster.

Joyce’s words from the night in the pool felt like ages ago, but nevertheless reverberated in El’s brain. “I’m right here sweetie. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

The shaking child tried to remember when she ended up back here after her time in The Upside Down. Joyce had pulled her into an embrace she had never felt before. She wanted to remember that feeling, hoping it would cast the darkness away.

She had dealt with this anxiety before, but it was always a crippling, lonely process. Even though Joyce had said El could wake her up if she ever needed to, there was still a slight pang of guilt every time the girl creaked open her mother’s door and crawled under her sheets. Too ashamed of her phobia, (a word Lucas taught her while teasing Dustin about his aversion to spiders), to wake her family, she curled tighter into her fetal position and tried to conjure up more happy thoughts.

El didn’t sleep a wink that night. It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning, when the first light of dawn filtered through the divides in her blinds, did she feel safe enough to shut her tired eyes. But her rest was short lived when Jonathan came into her room two hours later.

Even though El didn’t attend school with the boys yet, she still woke up with everyone else, enjoying the Byers’ morning routine and company. Her older brother sat at the foot of her bed and whispered to her until she stirred, knowing better than to touch her when she’s not fully conscious. (He learned that the hard way after being thrown out into the hall by an unseen force in her first week living with them). When she began to stir, he patted her leg and returned to the kitchen.

The heavy-eyed girl shuffled out of her room like the dead walking, socked feet dragging her to the kitchen. Will was already at the table quietly humming to himself as he read a schoolbook. Jonathan returned to his place at the stove to continue scrambling eggs and toasting Egos. Joyce was skittering about the house looking for her “misplaced” name tag. Everything seemed to be in perfect chaotic order except for Eleven who slumped into her seat next to Will, eyes barely open and half her pixie length hair sticking up.

The adrenaline rush from fear and lack of sleep last night had left her so exhausted she didn’t even feel guilty when she groaned in response to Joyce's scatter-brained good morning.         Finally, after another five minutes that felt like eons, the whole family was seated. Together, the Byers shared a look concerning sleeping beauty who sloppily piled forkfuls of waffle into her mouth without even opening her eyes. Their eyes darted from one person to the other, curiosity growing on their faces. Will, the ever-mindful brother, was the first to speak.

“El?” Her eyes opened slightly at her name. “Are you okay? You don’t look very well.” His voice laced with concern.

El simply rocked her head up and down, lazily chewing her breakfast.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow at Joyce who was already leaning over the table to put a hand on her daughter’s forehead. No fever, but her face was pale and her head bobbed in and out of sleep despite the fresh plate of her favorite Eggos, now a quarter missing, in front of her.

“El, honey, how did you sleep last night?” Joyce wondered if she had even slept at all.

Despite the shame she felt for her fear, she answered honestly. One, because she knew lying was wrong and her mom just wanted to help. And two, she was too sleepy to try avoiding the question.

"Didn't sleep," she mumbled, eyes open fully now. "Couldn't."

"Why not? Did you have a bad dream?" She was going to continue in trying to reassure El that if there were nightmares she couldn't face she was more than welcome in the safety comfort of Joyce's bed, but stopped herself when El shook her head.

"Dark," she whispered, a somber tone beginning to take hold of her voice.

The boys looked at each other confused. El had been in the dark before. The movies, late night rides home from The Wheelers. It's not like when El was sleeping on the couch they left lights on either. They simply couldn't afford to leave on lamps or anything if they're not being used. And the few times she crept into bed with Joyce there hadn't been a night light either.

Then it dawned on them; she was never alone while she was in the dark. She always had the boys, or Joyce, or even Chester to keep her company. The boys gave each other a knowing look. It was Jonathan who spoke up first.

"Are... are you afraid of the dark, El?" He mumbled. He knew it well, the overwhelming feeling of loneliness that stifled the air late at night, but perhaps he didn't know it like his siblings did.

El’s voice shook as she whispered. “Yes,” she breathed, avoiding eye contact as hot tears escaped to her cheeks.

Jonathan outstretched a hand to place on El's. "Y'know, I used to be afraid of the dark, too. It's nothing to be ashamed of," he smiled gently.

Will took the opportunity to mimic his brother and placed his tiny palm on top of her other hand as well. "Yeah, I was too. Especially after that week. I spent almost every night in mom's room after I got out of the hospital," he paused to smile at his sister, hoping their stories could help her somehow. "Sometimes I still get a little freaked out," he shivered, looking down, "but most people grow out of it just like Jonathan did."

Joyce grinned to herself, proud of her boys for taking such good care of this girl who hadn’t even existed to them, or anyone outside Hawkins National Laboratory, a year ago.

“I think everyone has fears that seem irrational or silly,” Joyce picked up the conversation, “but that doesn’t make them not scary to us. Even I’m scared of things like losing you guys or the phone shocking me again. Chief Hopper is scared of stuff too.” El giggled at that. The thought of The Chief being afraid of something so trivial like snakes or spiders just seemed so bizarre.

Joyce continued. “But it’s how we deal with our fears that matter.” She had been speaking to the table, but now turned her attention specifically to El. “There’s always something out there that’s going to be scary. There’s no need to be ashamed of it because I bet there’s millions of other people that are scared of the exact same thing.”

She lightly tapped El on the nose signaling the end of her little speech, hoping maybe it would lighten the mood. El grinned and looked back down at her plate of Eggos.

“Why don’t you go on back to bed and I’ll come back on my lunch break to check on you?” Joyce suggested.

El nodded at her mom’s idea, eager to return to bed, but not before giving every one of them a big hug to show them how grateful she was for their love and support.

Her heart felt full as she sank into the fluffy mattress and snuggled deep under the covers. Sleep overtook her faster than she thought and she hadn’t stirred until her brothers got home a little after 3:15. Jonathan had turned on a new mixtape to show Will, not knowing Eleven was still asleep just a room away. When she awoke, however, she was marveled.

Strung up around El’s room were dozens of Christmas lights in all the different colors. There was even a an entire string that went around made up of completely white bulbs. But these lights different from the ones that snaked through the house during the week of November 6, 1983. Joyce had gotten rid of those, exchanging them for smaller, pointier lights to hang up that Christmas. The old kind were just too painful of a reminder to bear for everyone during what should be a cheerful holiday.

She always thought they were the most spectacular thing, though, those Christmas lights. When she found herself surrounded by hundreds of them her first time at the Byers' house, despite the circumstances under which they were hung, she couldn’t help but feel electric when she saw the multitude of colors and how they danced along the walls. It was like magic, something Will had taught her plenty about, most of the time in The Wheeler’s basement after a campaign when they were the last two up.

She got out of bed and stretched, finally feeling rested after such a stressful night. She climbed on top of her bed to get a better look at the twinkling colors and smiled to herself. Pretty, she thought.

Outside, El heard the front door open and shut with the familiar sound of Joyce’s keys jingling as she set her purse down on the kitchen table. This was immediately followed by fast footsteps and Joyce hissing at her sons to turn down their music. Jonathan defended them by claiming they didn’t know El was asleep but that they were sorry.

Moments later, there was a soft rapping at the door and Joyce peeked her head in.

“Oh, you’re up! I hope the boys didn’t wake you…” she trailed off.

“No,” she claimed, sitting down cross-legged on her bed. It wasn’t technically a lie. She was drifting into some sort of consciousness when the boys got home. The music just got her there faster.

Joyce stepped into the room and sat next to her on the bed. “Do you like them? I thought they might be better than just a boring night light. This way, you won’t have to sleep in the complete dark. Plus they’re prettier to look at,” she grinned, putting an arm around El’s shoulder pulling her close.

El’s heart fluttered at the affection. “Very pretty,” she responded, looking up again in awe.

“I think the white one’s look like stars. Like having outer space in your own room, but some people call them fairy lights because they look like fairies dancing. Did you know that?”

“No! I didn’t!” El exclaimed. “I like stars, but I like fairies too,” she stated, sinking further into her mother’s embrace.

Mike had told her about fairies once after a Dungeons and Dragons campaign. They weren’t the same type of fairy that Troy had called Will. She knew that was bad and that saying it made you a mouth breather.

The kind Mike talked about, however, were good. He said they were like tiny spirits that sometimes lived in the woods or other places and had magical powers that could help people. But he didn’t tell her they twinkle like Christmas lights.

The idea of fairies in her room, real or not, made her giddy. It was like she had her own personal protectors among a room of constellations to ward off the bad in her life. The bad men, the bad dreams, the monsters.

Maybe, just maybe she could finally rest easy.

As El changed over the years, so did her room. She was always re-arranging furniture and collecting all sorts of odds and ends.The movie posters that hung in middle school were frequently replaced with newer ones with depictions of her favorite movie scenes or rockstars Jonathan had shown her.

Her vanity now held a broad selection of makeup, though she really only used it for special occasions. Newer photos of her family and friends were added to the mirror all the time. Drawings Will gave to her over the years were swapped out with newer ones he gifted her every few months, but she secretly kept every one in a special box under her bed because she cherished these small gifts from her brother. Same with photos Jonathan would send her from NYU.

Once she was admitted to school, she also became quite the bookworm, devouring anything with words printed on it. Her book shelf was so full that some novels even sat horizontal, or were stacked off to the side. It, was an organized mess, one that only she could navigate, but she liked it that way.

At some point, Eleven even obtained Officer Callahan’s deputy hat after winning a game of cards at one of the station’s holiday parties. She wore it for Halloween the next year when she dressed up as Chief Hopper. It held a special place high up on one of her shelves.

While her fear of the dark did diminish over time, it never went away completely. Thus, one thing in her room had always remained the same; the fairy lights.

To her, they were even better than the glow-in-the-dark ceiling stars Dustin got her after she witnessed her first meteor shower.

Those little lights were a symbol of freedom and belonging to her. They represented the infinite amount of stars outside her window that reached out into all sorts of beyond, stretching across a world she had never known. They made her feel safe and protected when everything got to be too much. While it wasn’t the same as the solace of another person with her, or a stuffed animal to cuddle, at least it was something.

And so, every night, as she drifted to sleep, she would take one last glance at the lights that bordered her walls and thought that no matter how many stars, no matter how many universes were out there, this was exactly where she belonged.

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